It is midmorning of the twenty-fifth day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

07 Mar 2018 00:00

Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

What better time to take a bath than during a mid-morning storm? Wendryth doesn't seem to care too much as he wallows in the shallows of the lake, but H'rik looks a little more grumbly about being out in the weather, warm as it may be. There's little point wearing an oilskin when one is out in the water anyway, and the man's shirt and shorts are sodden from the rain (and probably from the lake, too) as he scrubs one of Wendryth's forepaws. Gotta get those talons nice and shiny! "I know you need to spend some time away from the sands, but could you have picked a better time?" The man is saying, though the reply from his lifemate is an unapologetic, amused rumble.

Can Daenerys set fire to the rain and watch it burn? His dark scowl suggests how much he would love that; he hates being soaked. And yet he has no choice if he means to keep himself fit. So he's out taking a run in this misery, accompanied by a single squeaking firelizard, small and golden against his black jacket's hood. Of course she gets his hood; it's her just due.

It's Wendryth that notices Daenerys first, the bronze's interested rumble causing H'rik to lift his head from his ministrations and turn it to see who his dragon's spotted. There's something unheard from the bronze now, but the fact that his blue-green eyes are focused on the candidate implies it's something to do with him. H'rik lifts a hand. "Candidate! Daenerys, right?" Because a name seems much politer than just yelling candidate at people, even if they do have that white knot.

Crap, he's been spotted! The Candidate slows to a stop, turning toward the source of the voice and slowly slogging in that direction. "Sir?" Daenerys responds, eyeing Wendryth suspiciously. So much focused attention cannot be good for the candidate.

Sorry Daenerys! Wendryth has those eyes, those special eyes. eyes that seek out candidates for reasons. H'rik doesn't miss that suspicious look the other man has, so he'll grin in an attempt to ease things. "It's all good, it's all good." And if there's a bit of a sigh from him as he wades to the sandy shore, throwing the brush into the basket there, it's a brief one. "Wendryth just has a, uh, request of you." Why does this seem so familiar?

Daenerys' suspicion is SO confirmed! There's always a task, with that one. Daen will, however, return H'rik's smile— it's not his fault his dragon is the heroic sort, now is it. "So, what's the task?" Some small part of him is deeply, deeply curious, for it might end up a fun challenge.

H'rik could laugh at the ease with which Daenerys accepts his fate, but he needs to have some seriousness about this, right? For Wendryth's sake, at least, given how seriously the bronze is taking this whole thing. "Well - he's aware that you have a knowledge of leather-working." The bronze has done some investigating, it would seem. Probably via H'rik, since dragons can't exactly read records about candidates. "And -" A little roll of his eyes. "Pardon the paraphrasing." Wendryth has smug mode engaged as he ambles out of the lake, water dripping off his metallic hide. "For fair Diem, he wishes for you to craft her something of leather, as befits a Weyrwoman of Igen."

Daenerys knows when he's outgunned! There's wisdom in giving in to the inevitable, and all. "Ah, the fair Weyrwoman…" Thinking hard, Daenerys scrubs at his scruffy chin, then snaps his fingers, grinning broadly. "Know just the thing; yon bronze will be satisfied, I think, with the idea." Even as he wonders if Diem's gokd might have spoken to him about it already.

Yay for willing candidates! Wendryth gives a happy-sounding snort as he stands beside H'rik, the Weyrleader now collecting up the basket of dragon-scrubbing implements. "Sounds like you've got it all worked out!" oblivious to conversations the candidate may have had in the galleries with Diem. Or has Wendy caught wind of them somehow? Or did the bronze just come up with this quest off the top of his head? Well, the task is given now! "I'm sure he will. And we've got a few more to give out, haven't we?" He addresses that to Wendy, looking up at the smug bronze with amusement.

Oh, but Daenerys totally does, and is fortunately able to do such a thing, having spent no little time learning just the trick of it. "Well. I'd best be off to my task then." Before he laughs at the smug pride the dragon so obviously feels. It's kind of cute, really. "I want to get it just right, and all." With a salute, the candidate is off across the Bowl.